Dark
by Justabibliophile
Summary: The Doctor has just regenerated and forgotten he saved Gallifrey. But the TARDIS remembers, and she can't tell him.


It was so dark.

That wasn't true in an objective sense. Although the golden regeneration energy had faded, there was still plenty of light. But no, the TARDIS felt completely dark. Completely cold. It wasn't a feeling she enjoyed, but she had to feel it. It was how her thief felt.

The Doctor was reborn again. Rebirth had always felt like such a beautiful word. A fresh slate, a new perspective, something gained. This time, something was lost. A memory. A single memory so strong and powerful that its loss was a bleeding wound. The Doctor's mind was bleeding, and he had no idea.

Her new Doctor had fallen to his knees. She expected him to be sobbing, but he wasn't. Almost as if the shock had made him forgot how to breathe. He just sat there, his eyes wide and hopeless. He didn't take any time to survey his new body or prepare for what was coming next. He just buried his face in his hands.

The TARDIS had heard the last version of her thief saying he wouldn't be able to remember saving Gallifrey. She knew herself that he wouldn't be able to remember. She could even watch the future and see a time where he did remember. She expected that to help her cope, but the agony her Doctor was in pained her too much. For his next few lives, that burden would weigh on him. He would look at himself and see a monster when he had been more heroic than he's ever been before.

She didn't know if she could handle watching that.

Her attention was snatched when the Doctor cried out. Now, ragged breaths thrummed in his chest. His entire body was shaking, and she nearly worried he would faint. He didn't, but she didn't think that was much better. Fainting would at least block out his pain for a little while.

The TARDIS reached out for his mind, but to her horror she found she couldn't access it. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised. He had made sure to activate the Moment far away from her so she wouldn't have to watch him do it. No doubt the shame he felt was keeping her out. What could she have done anyway? As much as she wanted to show him the future and show him that he hadn't destroyed Gallifrey after all, she couldn't. The paradox would be too disastrous. But she at least wanted to comfort him as best she could. Clearly, her Doctor didn't think he deserved comfort anymore.

The TARDIS had always perceived time in a very unique way, but she knew that to any human in her place, the time that passed would have felt like an eternity. Her thief refused to move, practically rocking back and forth. She'd been with him for centuries, for every single high and low, but she'd never seen him so vulnerable until now. Even though she could only brush his mind, she could feel the chaos and loathing inside. And the darkness.

Finally, he looked at her. His eyes were the eyes of a child who'd just shattered something invaluable. The confusion, the broken innocence, asking that question. _What have I done?_

How she longed to tell him. _You've done nothing wrong. You saved everyone._

He opened his mind up a bit. He was trying to estimate how many children were on Gallifrey. A billion? Two?

_Two point four seven billion, my Doctor. All safe because of you._

But she couldn't tell him. She just couldn't tell him. She couldn't comfort him. She could just watch. He fell to the ground. He paced the room. Cried. Shouted. Knocked something over.

Now, he was staring in a mirror. It almost frightened her, the rage in his eyes. It was something she only saw in the eyes of the Doctor's worst enemies, bent on destroying him. And now he was looking at himself that way.

He smashed it. The sound split through the air. Glass sprinkled along the surface. It stung slightly, but her Doctor hardly noticed. He turned around and smashed another one.

Another, another, another. Every single reflective surface that wouldn't damage her too much. She could feel his resentment piling up. Higher and higher until she was becoming dizzy just perceiving it.

The TARDIS begged. _Stop. Please just stop._

Every plea ricocheted off of him. When he finally did stop, it was not out of forgiveness, but out of the fact that there was nothing more left for him to destroy. He collapsed again, almost in the fetal position. Her Doctor was always craving adventure in the gloomiest of times. But now, he was silently wishing the universe he adored and tried so hard to protect would just go away.

He didn't move for a long time. Just wandered through the darkness of his mind, so messy while his body was so still. He grappled with the idea of being the last Time Lord. He didn't think he was a worthy representative of what the species was. He didn't think he ever would be. Again and again, he replayed the memories of destroying the Time Lords. Those fake memories. Hiding the goldmine that he wouldn't be able to experience for centuries. He didn't know…

But she knew. She had faith in him. She could see in the future that her faith would be enough to support him until he could support himself. They would make it eventually. That time existed, she just needed to guide her thief there.

And there was another thing she needed to think about. The Moment. Her appearance matched another, someone that the Doctor needed to find. When she convinced the Doctor to travel again, she would have to take him to the one who matched the Moment. It was too important to let go.

He would be fine. He would heal. She wouldn't have to keep this secret anymore. Maybe if she watched the hopeful destination over and over again, she'd forget the agonizing journey.

But there was no more time to think of the plan or the future or any of that. For now, she would have to wait until he was ready. She would have to wait until he learned to trust himself again. But it would take so long… How would she be able to handle that?

It was dark that night. So very dark as the TARDIS and her thief mourned, he for his planet, and she for him.


End file.
